He is an almanac out of
date; none of his days speak of fair weather. Of all the files of men,
he marcheth in the last, and comes limping, for he is shot, and is no
man of this world. He hath lost his way, and being benighted, strayed
into a wood full of wolves, and nothing so hard as to get away without
being devoured. He that walks from six to six in Paul's goes still but a
quoit's cast before this man.
A CREDITOR
Is a fellow that torments men for their good conditions. He is one of
Deucalion's sons, begotten of a stone. The marble images in the Temple
Church that lie cross-legged do much resemble him, saving that this is a
little more cross. He wears a forfeited bond under that part of his
girdle where his thumb sticks, with as much pride as a Welshman does a
leek on St. David's Day, and quarrels more and longer about it. He is a
catchpole's morning's draught, for the news that such a gallant has come
yesternight to town, draws out of him both muscadel and money too. He
says the Lord's Prayer backwards, or, to speak better of him, he hath a
Paternoster by himself, and that particle, Forgive us our debts, as we
forgive others, &c., he either quite leaves out, or else leaps over it.
It is a dangerous rub in the alley of his conscience. He is the
bloodhound of the law, and hunts counter, very swiftly and with great
judgment. He hath a quick scent to smell out his game, and a good deep
mouth to pursue it, yet never opens till he bites, and bites not till he
kills, or at least draws blood, and then he pincheth most doggedly.
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